


Mortal Fools (A Midsummer Night's Remix)

by heyjupiter



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Theatre, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind the scenes at a summer Shakespeare Festival, Howlett is as surprised as anyone to find himself giving advice to grumpy stage manager Erik on the difficulties of dating actors. Charles appreciates the results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mortal Fools (A Midsummer Night's Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tumblings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/762550) by [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash). 
  * In response to a prompt by [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash) in the [remixmadness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2015) collection. 



> This is a remix of a short ficlet included in the Tumblings collection, the untitled "Charles and Herc drinking and bitching about their boyfriends" one.
> 
> It's sort of a crossover of X-Men: First Class and the X-Treme X-Men comics; for purposes of this story, any readers who aren't familiar with X-Treme X-Men probably just need to know that James Howlett is a version of Wolverine who's dating Hercules.
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader, likeadeuce!

"So the problem is that the revolve gets stuck halfway through," Howlett explained, pointing at the faulty set piece that was currently occupying much of the workshop.

"I see," Erik said. 

"I used about half a can of WD-40, but…" Howlett trailed off, hoping Erik would just fix it without being a dick about it.

"But?" Erik asked, eyebrows raised. Apparently "not being a dick" was off the table.

"But, it still gets stuck. So, I was hoping that the crew member with magnetic mutant abilities might be able to fix it."

"Aha. So you want the stage manager to take time out from his very busy schedule to deal with a set problem?"

Howlett sighed. He was pretty sure Erik had already spent more time belittling Howlett than it would take him to just fix it. "Yes, Erik, if you wouldn't mind."

"I do mind, actually, but in the interest of getting this show up and running, I'll see what I can do." Erik closed his eyes and waved a hand over the set piece. He frowned, and after a moment, the revolve spun around smoothly.

Howlett sighed with relief. " _Thank_ you," he said.

Erik nodded once. "Is that all? Everything else is on track?"

"Yeah," Howlett said. "The trap door in the stage is working fine, and those are really our only two big pieces. Still working on some flats and furniture, but the revolve was the main problem. We should be ready on time for load-in."

"And how are things looking for _Lear_?" Erik asked.

"Ah, just fine. Scott has a really simple, modern vision for it. Look's like it'll be a lot of work for Ali's light board, not much for me. I love working with Ro, but this private school set for _Twelfth Night_ is killing me, to be honest, especially coming after that forest for _Midsummer_."

Erik nodded. " _Midsummer_ is… difficult," he acknowledged.

Howlett nodded. "At least it's opening soon."

"Are you attending the opening night gala?" Erik asked.

"Nah. But Kitty told me I could hang out backstage for it," Howlett said. "So I'm gonna do that and skip most of the hoopla. You going?"

Erik fidgeted. "One of our visiting artists is arriving that afternoon, so I have to pick her up from the airport. I won't be back until just before curtain."

"Ah," Howlett said, knowing perfectly well that the Shakespeare Festival had a half-dozen college interns who could have easily been sent on that errand instead of Erik. But he also knew as well as Erik how annoying those opening night galas were--all the best seats in the house went to bigwig donors, and there was so much small talk and flattery involved, and so few hors d'oeuvres. 

Of course, most of those people were less interested in talking to techies like Erik and Howlett. Most of the schmoozing fell to Charles, Herc, and the other actors. Still--Howlett was distinctly terrible at schmoozing, and Herc, who knew how to pick his battles, generally let him off the hook for events like that. 

Erik said, "I saw the first tech run, though. It's certainly an ambitious production."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Howlett said. He and his crew had busted their asses getting the set together, but he'd definitely been impressed by the production. And not just because Herc's Oberon costume was hot as hell.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He wiped his hands on his pants before checking it and finding a text from Herc.

 _Dress rehearsal is finally over! We're celebrating at the Globe. Come._ Howlett smiled at the command. 

_K,_ he replied. To Erik, he said, "Well, thanks for fixing the revolve, I appreciate it."

"If you had used the proper size ball bearing in the first place, you wouldn't have had that problem."

Howlett rolled his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I time travel. I'm getting out of here."

"Are you going to the Globe?" Erik asked.

"Yeah," Howlett said.

Erik said, "Charles wants me to go."

"Ah," Howlett said, unsure what Erik wanted. Not a ride; the Globe was just around the block from the Shakespeare Festival's campus. 

"It's just that all the actors are so irritating," Erik said, arms crossed. "I don't know why Charles spends any more time with them than he has to."

Howlett shrugged. "They're not all bad."

Erik glared, and Howlett conceded, "Well, most of 'em are pretty young."

"So why are you going?" Erik asked.

"Because Herc asked me to, and I haven't seen him all day."

"But you'd see him when he got home afterwards, right?" Erik asked.

Howlett said, "Sure. But this way I'll see him sooner. And there are $2 drafts."

"But drinks would be cheaper at _home_ ," Erik said.

"Do… you really not understand the concept of a bar?" Howlett asked.

Erik sighed. "It's just that I don't like people."

Howlett nodded. "Yeah, I get that. But I gotta lock up the scene shop, so... maybe you could go dislike people somewhere else."

Erik said, "But _you_ don't like people."

"I don't like most people," Howlett agreed. "But one of the people I _do_ like has asked me to join him, so I'm gonna go do that." He turned out the lights and locked up the shop. To his surprise, Erik trailed behind him like a misanthropic puppy dog.

"Are you going to change?" Erik asked. 

"Why would I do that?"

"You have grease on your pants. And you smell."

Howlett looked down at his dirty jeans and sweaty, paint-spattered plaid flannel shirt. He shrugged. "The Globe has seen worse things." He pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket and lit one as he walked. The smoke might cover the scent of a day's hard labor. At the very least, the nicotine might help relieve the stress of talking to Erik for so long.

Erik continued following Howlett. "Do you know if the whole cast is there, or maybe just some of them?"

"Not sure, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. They tend to travel in packs."

Erik sighed. Howlett said, "You had to know what you were getting into, dating an actor."

"I didn't know he wanted to be an actor," Erik said. "When we first met, he was directing. I didn't realize it was just a requirement for his acting degree until later."

"Ah," Howlett said. He'd had no such excuse. He and Herc had first met on a production of Aeschylus' _The Frogs_ ; Herc had looked amazing in a toga and had also been one of the few actors who wasn't hugely condescending to the crew.

They'd reached the Globe, but Howlett paused outside the door for a few more drags off his cigarette. Erik waited with him. Howlett's phone buzzed, and he saw that Herc had texted _Where are you?_

Exasperated, Howlett replied, _Almost there. Erik keeps trying to talk to me._

Immediately, Herc replied, _Erik Lehnsherr? Talking? To you?_

_Yes, it's weird._

_James, if you didn't want to come out tonight, you could have just said. You don't have to make excuses._

Howlett huffed at the injustice and put out his cigarette butt in the ashtray. "Okay, let's go," he said.

"Oh, no, I'm not--" Erik said. "I was just--"

"Nope, you gotta come now," Howlett said. He took Erik by the elbow and guided him into the bar. Erik protested vaguely but didn't put up any real fight.

The cast of _Midsummer_ was easy to identify. They'd taken up three large tables and were very, very loud. Howlett sighed and shoved his way over to a spot next to Herc, who thankfully was sitting on the end of one of the tables, next to Charles, whose wheelchair generally resulted in prime locations.

Herc looked up, plainly astonished. "James! You… brought Erik!"

"You know I wouldn't lie about it if I didn't want to come," Howlett said, putting a slight scold into his tone.

"True! Still, it is very strange!" Herc said. He was happy and a little tipsy. "Drinks! We need more drinks."

"True," Howlett echoed. Herc stood up and walked to the bar with Howlett. From the corner of his eye, Howlett saw Erik take over Herc's vacated seat. After they'd gotten their drinks, Herc pulled out his phone and held it out to take a selfie.

"No," Howlett said, holding his drink in front of his face.

"Why not? James, you never let me take your picture."

"I just don't like pictures," Howlett said. "You know I don't."

"But I like to look at you," Herc said. 

Howlett sighed. "Fine," he said. "One picture. But don't put it on Instagram."

Herc bent down close to Howlett, kissing his cheek and snapping a picture. He held the phone over to Howlett for approval. "See? Cute."

Howlett shook his head and drank his beer, perfectly aware that Hercules was literally the only person who would ever describe him as "cute," particularly after a sweaty day in the scene shop. 

Herc persisted, "Why can't I post it? I want for everyone to see how cute my boyfriend is."

"Because I don't care what everyone else thinks."

"If you don't care, why can't I post it?"

"I--" Howlett started. "I guess that's not exactly it. I guess it's just, I like my privacy."

"Hmm," Herc said. "What if I use a filter?"

Howlett sighed. "Look, it's just… your whole feed is all your actor friends, with their headshots and glamour shots and I don't know what--"

"I assure you, none of my friend are posting glamour shots," Herc said primly. "Except possibly Emma."

"Okay, well, you know what I mean," Howlett said. "And I'd rather just be… behind the scenes."

"But you're part of my life," Herc said. "I want to share it. Look, what if I put a heart on it?" He tapped at the screen and showed Howlett a new version of the picture, one that looked like a 5-year-old girl had been unleashed upon it.

"Why would that make it better?" 

Herc shrugged. "Here, look at my feed," he said, scrolling through dozens of pictures, many of which included heart and flower stamps like the ones Herc had used. That must be in with the festival cast this summer. Howlett was constantly hearing about new fads that swept through the cast like plagues. Last summer they'd all been hooked on Kim Kardashian's app, so Howlett supposed the virtual stamps were an improvement. 

"I get it, you have some very good-looking friends," Howlett said.

"No, that's not what I mean! Although, yes, I do. But you see, all my friends post pictures of their boyfriends and girlfriends. I want to do that too. And I do not understand why it hurts you to have that picture up there. You don't even have an account, so I can't even tag you."

Howlett looked back through Herc's feed. There was a new picture at the top, of Charles and Erik. It must have been taken ten feet from where Howlett was standing. It was a selfie, much like the one Herc had just taken. In it, Charles was beaming at the camera and Erik was turned sideways, gazing dreamily at Charles. It was a nice picture. Howlett might even call it cute, even without a heart stamp on it. It reminded him that Erik must not be a total dick all the time. 

Howlett sighed. "Fine, you can post it."

Herc beamed. "With the stamps?"

"With the stamps," Howlett agreed. Herc tapped at his phone and smiled. Then he put his phone in his pocket and said, "Oh, you need another beer!" 

"Yes, I do," Howlett agreed.

After it was procured, Herc asked, "So what were you and Erik talking about?"

"Uh… I think he was asking me for advice on… how to talk to people?"

Herc laughed for an indignified length of time. Howlett could admit it was a little bit of a "blind leading the blind" situation.

"So what did you tell him?" Herc finally asked, after he'd caught his breath.

Howlett shrugged. "I told him that sometimes you have to do stuff you don't like, if you like the person who's asking you to do it."

"Ah," Herc said, smiling gently down at Howlett. "That is… sound advice." Howlett pulled his phone out and snapped a quick picture, before Herc stopped looking at him like that.

"Don't you want to be in it?" Herc asked.

"Nah. I just like looking at you," Howlett said. "Maybe I'll figure out how to put some flowers on it. Or maybe I'll just borrow one of the flower crowns from the costume shop."

"The flower crowns are only for the fairies to wear," Herc said solemnly. "My head might stretch them."

"I'll see if I can get Jan to make a spare," Howlett replied. "She owes me a favor."

They were still standing at the bar, and before Herc could answer, the actors behind them started chanting something that Howlett couldn't quite make out, probably one of their stupid tongue-twister warmups. Howlett shook his head and said, "Lord, what fools these mortals be," with an eyeroll.

Herc squeezed Howlett's shoulder and said, "Oh, some of them are okay," before gently steering him back toward the group of enthusiastic thespians.


End file.
